The Life of a Hired Gun
by SoldierFirstClass
Summary: Sam was a prisoner in Corel. Sam was a hitman in Midgar. And now Sam is screwed. Stuck in a rough situation, Sam is exploring his less than honorable past to find out where things went wrong. Chapter 4 up: ShinRa messes with the wrong two guys.
1. Piece o' Cake

_**Disclaimer:** Most of the characters and ideas in this story are products of Square-Enix/Squaresoft from the video game Final Fantasy 7 and I am in no way responsible for the creation of this fictional world or the characters within it._

_**Rating**: **M (violence, language)**_

**The Life of a Hired Gun**

_Prologue:_

_My name is Sam. Some people call me Hades, because of what I do for a living. Some call me Revolver, because of what I use to do it. I've also been called mean, evil and heartless, but I don't think those where meant to be names. _

_I was born in Corel. I spent my youth there before I moved to Corel Prison, not by choice. Not the new Corel Prison with an amusement park above it. The older one. The one that, back in those days, was the only prison for violent murders, rapists, and other scum of the earth._

_Yeah, I made quite a few mistakes back in those days. Thinking back, I probably would'a done a few things differently. Ah, who am I kidding, I'd probably screw up again and __do all the same shit. _

_Anyway, I got out of Corel Prison and I had my life running pretty well for a while there. I was good at what I did and I got money for it. What's not to like? _

_But, it eventually all came crashing down and now I'm totally screwed. I'm not surprised that it ended up like this, I just don't know how I got here. _

_Oh, did I forget to mention, I'm buried alive. I don't remember who put me here or why. I guess I'll just have to start with what I do remember and work my way to now, since I have plenty of time to think. Let's see, oh, I remember the day it all got screwed up..._

**Chapter 1: Piece 'o Cake**

_(Three weeks before the destruction of Reactor No. 1)_

Scarlet stepped into her large, well furnished office where Heidegger and Rufus already stood waiting for her. She carried three file folders with pictures paper-clipped to the front. As she glanced to Rufus, he silently nodded to her. With Rufus' approval, she laid the folders on the coffee table in front of their guest.

_Where on earth did they find this guy?_

Scarlet could not believe her eyes as she scanned the strange white man sitting on the large sofa in her office. He was roughly six feet tall, muscular but not overly bulky, and dressed like a broke cowboy. He wore a worn out, long black trench coat open over a tattered white T-shirt, scruffy Blue Jeans and old black work boots. On his head, he wore a black cowboy hat which was angled downward so that the brim partially covered his face.

"So you want 'em dead?"

"Well, yes," Scarlet replied with a pretentious tone.

"We'd like it done within the next twenty-four hours if you can manage." Heidegger added.

"Piece 'o cake," their guest responded arrogantly.

As he scanned through the files, Scarlet saw that 'COREL PRISON' was carved into his leathery knuckles with one word on each hand. Between his thick fingers he held a lit cigarette that was filling her office with disgusting smoke.

"Could you put out that cigarette," Scarlet asked demandingly. "I don't allow smoking in my office."

He ignored her entirely and continued flipping casually through the files.

"This last guy's says 'whereabouts unknown'," the man stated as he opened the last file folder.

"Is that a problem?" the young Vice President asked.

"Price is doubled," the strange man said. "That puts the total up to twenty-thousand."

"Alright," Rufus replied. "Five thousand apiece for the successful termination of Albert Clay and Russell Walters. And, ten thousand for the successful termination of Barret Wallace."

"Deal," the man said as he pulled the three pictures from the front their folders.

Folding the pictures, the man stood to slide them into his back pocket. As he stood up, his trench coat opened further, revealing his weapons, or at least some of them. On his right hip was a holster holding a black revolver. He also had a large combat knife strapped to the side of each thigh and a line of grenades on his belt.

He then extinguished his lit cigarette by crushing it between his fingers and proceeded to drop it on Scarlet's expensive coffee table.

"What is your name?" Scarlet asked with frustration in her voice. "For conversation purposes."

"Don't have a name," he replied.

"Well," Scarlet answered, obviously annoyed. "What can we call you?"

In response to Scarlet's question, the man looked up at her, displaying his strangest quality yet. His left eye, which before was hidden by the brim of his hat, was completely red...blood red. No pupil, no white, just a smooth red orb.

The creepy cyclops then raised his T-shirt, uncovering a large tattoo. On his abdomen was a picture of a demon, wearing a red cloak, with a skull instead of a face. Just beneath this demon was the large word 'HADES'.

As the man lowered his shirt, he winked at Scarlet with his red eye, sending a cold shiver down her spine.

"Alright...Hades," Rufus said, breaking the silence. "You have your mission. Return to us when it is complete to receive your pay."

"Wait," the man said suddenly. "I want some of those Mako bullets."

"I don't know what you..." Scarlet started.

"Don't give me that bullshit," the man interrupted. "I seen 'em used."

"It's ok, Scarlet." Rufus said calmly. "Mr. Hades, Mako weaponry is expensive and not just for standard use. We only use such technology in special cases."

"Don't care," the man snapped. "Spare me you're 'we don't waste the good stuff on the grunts' speech, alright. I'm not ask'n you to supply your damn army with 'em. I just want a few, 'case I needs 'em."

"Scarlet," Rufus said, appearing unaffected by the man's attitude. "Go down to Weapons Development and get our friend here ten forty five caliber Mark II Predator shells."

Rufus then turned back to the hitman and coldly asked, "Happy?"

"Very," he replied.

_(Six hours later)_

Sam's first kill was a freebie. The kind of hit where he was getting paid just to pull a trigger. The file contained information on where the target would be and when. All Sam had to do was get there and wait.

He stood in a piece of shit wooden shack in the Sector 3 slums. It was completely dark other than the small beams of light that spilled in through the cracks and holes in the door. It seemed to be a small storage shed but it was hard to be sure. As he waited, he watched the path outside through a small circular hole.

It was almost time. According to the file, Albert Clay would be walking down this street on his way to meet a contact at approximately 7:30 p.m. The file did not have many other details. Apparently ShinRa wanted him to know as little as possible.

And there he was...all alone...

_SLAM_

Sam kicked the wooden door open and it slammed against the wall of the shack.

"DON'T MOVE!" Sam shouted as he burst out of the shed, drawing his revolver from his holster.

The mark was scared, but not surprised, as if he expected this to happen. What else could you expect when you were on The ShinRa Corporation's bad side?

Sam moved in front of him, aiming his revolver at the man's forehead.

"Albert Clay?" he asked.

The man didn't answer, so Sam quickly reached into his back pocket and pulled a picture out. He looked at the picture and then back at the trembling man. It was him.

Sam looked at the sight of his revolver with his good eye, squaring the barrel with the center of Albert's forehead. Albert, seeing him aim, raised his hands into a praying position and slowly bowed his head.

Maybe he was accepting his inevitable death. Maybe he was asking for help. Maybe he was trying to evoke a little pity from his assassin.

_BANG_

The gunshot echoed through the Slums, a sound that was sadly not uncommon in these parts. It would not be investigated and it would not be reported. It was likely that it might not be noticed. People would just turn their heads, close their doors, try to find cover or maybe just close their eyes and wish they were somewhere else.

_(Three hours later)_

Russell S. Walters was walking down a dusty path in the Sector 2 Slums with two of his friends. He was on his way to meet a ShinRa Soldier about underground work he had done for The ShinRa Corporation.

"Hey Rusty," Tom said, who walked behind him. "You really think people are after you?"

"Don't know," Russell replied. "But be careful just incase, ya know."

Henry, the most paranoid of the three, spoke up. "Rusty's right," he said with a shaky voice, "Sh...ShinRa is involved in some sh...shady stuff. K...Keep your guns ready boys."

_What a nut, _Russell thought. But, he wasn't taking any chances. They were all well armed and ready for anything.

Up ahead in the path, a man dressed in black slowly walked toward them. As he got closer, Russell noticed that the man was wearing a closed black trench coat that extended all the way to his feet. He also wore a black cowboy hat pulled down in front so that Russell couldn't see his face.

Suddenly, the man reached into his coat and pulled out what looked like a small, oddly-shaped knife. Without any warning whatsoever, the man looked up and whipped the knife at Russell.

"AAhhh!" Russell screamed as the knife sliced into his abdomen.

Tom and Henry both drew their pistols, but the strange black-clad man had disappeared into a nearby junkyard.

Russell quickly reached down and pulled the strange knife out of his stomach. He then raised it up to get a better look at it. It seemed to be a short blade welded to the bottom of some sort of hand grenade.

_BOOOM_

Sam waited a few seconds after the blast and walked back out into the path. He saw Russell's two companions were still alive, but not well.

It seemed they had been somewhat shaken by having Russell splattered all over their clothes and faces. Also, the one on the left had caught some shrapnel in one of his legs. He wasn't going anywhere.

Sam walked toward the man on the right, when suddenly the terrified man jumped to his feet and started sprinting toward the closest structure. He had abandoned his friend in favor of running for cover.

Sam quickly drew his revolver and pulled the hammer back. He then sighted the back of the running man's head and...

_BANG_

As the running man crumpled to the dirt, his incapacitated friend crawled for his gun which had been thrown from his hands when Russell had exploded. He was reaching out for it...

_BANG_

...when a bullet sliced cleanly through the palm of his hand. The bullet created a small hole that was quickly filled by blood.

"DAMN," the man screamed as he clutched his bleeding hand. He continued to groan in pain as Sam walked up and pointed the jet-black revolver at his head.

"Barret Wallace," Sam asked in a deep, threatening voice. "Where can I find him?"

"Don't..._Cough_.._Cough_...Don't know him," he said weakly.

"Did I _ask_ that!" Sam yelled angrily. "What have you heard?"

"He's a..._Cough_...He's a big black guy," the bleeding man answered. "He's got a gun..._Cough_..._Cough_...a gun for an...arm. He leads...AVALANCHE."

The files had covered everything except the part about AVALANCHE. Sam had heard of them, but he didn't know this Barret guy was their leader. He could probably squeeze some more money out of the ShinRa execs when he went back to collect.

"Anything else?" Sam asked as he raised his gun.

"pl...please don't..."

_BANG_

_(Twelve hours later)_

He had spent the better part of the last twelve hours gathering information. Finding a thug here or there and putting a beat on him for some info was a timeless amusement to Sam. The slums were full of tiny Turks and pseudo SOLDIER's, all just two bit wannabes who had something to prove.

When guys like Sam came around however, it was a different story. Only the toughest tough guy in the town would stand up to someone like him. Coincidentally, it was always those confident fools who had a useful tip, address or name.

Sam couldn't believe his eyes when his trail lead him to a crummy bar in the Sector 7 Slums.

_What kind of badass AVALANCHE leader hangs his hat in that shit hole?_ Sam thought._ I just hope he's in when I come knock'n._

As if on cue, a large black man stepped out of the door of the small bar. He had short black hair, bulging muscular arms and a large machine gun where his right hand should be.

"Easiest twenty grand I ever made," Sam said to himself. "All I have to do is take out Mr. Wallace and I'll have a nice chunk of spend'n cash."

_What could go wrong,_ Sam asked himself.

Relaxed, Sam calmly said to himself, "Piece 'o cake."

_(Present)_

_Yeah, it was the hit on Barret, that's when everything went wrong. If I had just walked out on the deal when I found out that he was the leader of AVALANCHE, I might not be in this creaky old box. _

_I knew those ShinRa execs were assholes and I knew they weren't telling me everything. I mean, why would they deal with scum like me when they had their own army and private assassins. _

_But, I never suspected things would go so badly. I figured they'd just pay up, see'n as how twenty grand wasn't much to them, and I'd be on my way. _

_I was wrong._


	2. Good ol' Friends

_As I was say'n, when I went to kill Barret Wallace was when things turned bad. _

_I didn't tell the ShinRa suits, but I knew Barret. At least, I used to know him. But, I knew he wouldn't be very happy to see me again. That's for damn sure..._

**Chapter 2: Good ol' Friends**

_(Three weeks before the destruction of Reactor No. 1)_

Sam stood in a small shop in the Sector 7 Slums checking his weapons. The materia salesman who ran the shop lay unconscious behind the counter with a large bruise on his forehead. He had gotten off easy.

Sam held his trusty revolver, a .45 Corel Double Action Army 'Peacemaker'. He swung the cylinder out and turned the gun upward so that six empty shell casings clattered to the floor.

He then removed six fresh shells from his belt and slid them into their individual chambers. Then, as he always did when he reloaded, he spun the cylinder and flicked his wrist so that the cylinder snapped back into the gun. Once the gun was loaded, he twirled it around his index finger a few times before sliding it smoothly into its holster.

Thinking about his mission, Sam couldn't help but remember the last time he had seen good old Barret Wallace.

_(Corel, twenty years ago)_

Fourteen year old Sam's arms were tightly held by two men.

"We ought to jus' kill you right now," one of them said angrily into his ear.

Barret and Dyne ran up, having noticed that people were gathered around Sam.

"What's go'n on here?" Barret asked quickly.

"Barret," one of the men said, hesitating before he spoke again. "...it's...it's your father...he's..."

"What happened to Dad," Barret asked, worry in his voice. "Is he ok?"

"He's dead Barret..." the other man said softly.

"No," Barret said, a look of horror on his face. "Sam did you...YOU...I'LL KILL YOU, YOU BASTARD!"

Barret rushed toward Sam, who was still restrained, attempting to avenge his father's death.

_(Midgar, Three weeks before the destruction of Reactor No. 1)_

_Yeah, he's not gonna be happy to see me,_ Sam thought as he walked up the steps to Tifa's 7th Heaven._ Now that I think about it, I'm not too fond of see'n him again either._

Sam was just about to step in the bar when he heard footsteps behind him.

"Can we help you," a man's voice asked.

Sam turned around to see a short heavy man and an average sized man standing at the bottom of the steps. Both wore a red bandana wrapped around their forehead, the sign of AVALANCHE apparently.

Knowing they would be trouble, Sam didn't ask questions. He quickly delivered a powerful kick to the taller man's head, who instantly fell unconscious to the dirt. As Sam jumped down from the stairs, the huskier of the two men pulled a handgun from his belt, swiftly raising it to fire.

Before the man could pull the trigger, Sam grabbed his gun by the barrel, yanked it from his hands and slammed it into the side of his head. As the heavy man fell to the ground, Sam flipped his gun around to finish him.

"Biggs, Wedge..." a woman said from the top of the stairs.

Before Sam could react, the beautiful woman somersaulted over the stairs and landed next to him. She then swiftly kicked Wedge's pistol from his hand and sent a second kick to the side of his head. The kick, which was delivered with power and grace, knocked his hat from his head exposing his short black hair and his strange red eye.

Sam threw a strong punch which she effortlessly avoided. She then landed several fast but powerful punches in his face before he could even fully retract his arm. He was getting beaten senseless, but he wouldn't accept defeat until his heart stopped pumping. He watched her moves carefully as she drove them into his face and torso.

_There,_ Sam thought as he reached up and caught her flying fist inches from his face. Then, while still holding her hand in his, he slammed his other palm into the inside of her shoulder.

_POP_

The brunette's shoulder was yanked out of its socket as he landed his blow. Then, with her right side wide open, Sam punched her hard in the face. As she stumbled backward, he kicked her in the gut.

Sam didn't know any fancy fighting moves, but he was strong, fast, and experienced. He had been fighting, literally fighting, for his life since he was fourteen so he couldn't be surprised by any foe.

"Sorry honey," Sam said as he pulled his revolver from his holster. "Nothin' personal."

Suddenly, Sam heard the mechanical hum of a machine gun spinning to life. He had only seconds...

_BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM_

He quickly dove behind a nearby building as Barret opened fire with his gun arm. Wood was splintered, dust was thrown, bystanders dove for cover and Sam was struck twice in the leg.

He had managed to dive in time, but two of Barret's shells had landed in his right thigh before he had made it behind the small building. Sam could feel blood pouring from the back of his leg as he leaned up against a metal wall waiting for Barret to stop firing.

When Barret's machine gun spun to a stop, Sam bolted down the street away from the bar. He needed to treat his wounds and come back later. Sam had a Cure materia with him, but he would have to get to safety and dig the bullets out first or the magic would just close the wound over them.

He ran until he was sure that there was nobody pursuing him. Sam ran past a train station and stopped as he reached a large junkyard that was filled with train cars.

_This looks like a good place to disappear for a while,_ Sam thought as he limped over to a rusty train car.

"Freeze," a commanding voice yelled from behind him. "Are you the man called Hades?"

Sam turned around to see three ShinRa soldiers. They all had their weapons pointed at him and looked ready to fire.

"Drop your weapon," one of the soldiers commanded. "You are under arrest for the murder of Albert Clay, Russell Walters and Barret Wallace."

_Wait a second,_ Sam's thoughts raced as he heard the statement._ Those first two murders were hours ago and the third hasn't happened yet. These soldiers must have been ordered to find and arrest me after I finished the job. When they heard the commotion over there they must've thought I killed Barret. It was all a goddamn setup!_

"Drop your weapon now!" the soldier shouted.

Seeing that they meant business, Sam slowly set his revolver on the ground. As he slowly raised his hands, one of the soldiers started towards him. Sam noticed the safety on his weapon was off and he was not moving exactly towards him, but rather around behind him.

_They weren't sent to arrest me, _Sam realized.

Sam waited until the soldier was nearly behind him and lunged at him, quickly grabbing the soldiers weapon and pointing it away from himself. The soldier fired...

_BAM BAM BAM _

...but his shots went wide. Sam then threw the soldier's weapon to the ground, wrapped his arm around the soldiers neck and turned his body so that the soldier served as a human shield. The other two soldiers raised their weapons but didn't fire for fear of hitting their comrade.

Sam knew they wouldn't wait forever, so he reached to the soldiers belt with his free hand and pulled a grenade from it. He pulled the pin from the grenade with his mouth and lobbed the grenade to one of the soldier's feet. The soldiers didn't have time to react.

_BOOM_

As the soldier on the left was killed by the explosion, the one on the right was throw from his feet. Before he could stand up, Sam grabbed the combat knife that he kept strapped to his right leg and hurled it into the stunned soldier's left eye.

With both of the armed soldiers dead, Sam had no further use for a human shield. He grabbed the helpless soldier's head with both hands and with a firm twist...

_CRACK_

...his body fell limp to the ground.

_Those poor bastards were sent to kill me,_ Sam thought._ Damn those ShinRa execs. He could see the headline now...'Violent Murderer Shot In Gunfight With ShinRa Troops'. After gettin rid of some of their most powerful enemies with no link to themselves, they could play the hero and stop the evil murderer. Genius._

"Damn," Sam cursed to himself, realizing that something was missing. "I left my hat back in Sector 7."

Sam reached up and stroked his scruffy black hair back. Sighing lightly to himself, he reached down and felt his two bullet wounds. They were still bleeding. He would need to close them up soon or he might loose too much blood.

He was about to go pick up his revolver when a female arm wrapped around his throat. The silent attacker then quickly placed her hand on her other arm and pulled the grip tight around his neck. It was the woman he had fought before. She smelled nice, just like she had earlier, which was how he could tell it was her.

_Damn she is quiet,_ Sam thought. _But reckless._

Sam was reaching for his other combat knife when Barret walked into view. He was followed by three other members of AVALANCHE, all holding handguns.

"Don't try anything," Barret warned. "You'll be dead faster than you can say 'I'm a murderer piece o' shit.'"

"I don't know Barret," Sam responded. "I can say that pretty fast these days."

"You got some damn nerve," Barret said angrily. "I can't believe you'd show your face 'round here after what you done."

Barret stepped closer to Sam, getting a better look at him. His clothes were tattered, his jeans were soaked in his own blood and his right eye was...red.

"What've you done with your eye?" Barret asked.

Sam was silent for a moment and then he asked, "What've you done with your arm?"

"We'll catch up later," Barret said, obvious anger in his voice.

With that comment, Barret swung his huge gun arm.

_CLANG_

Sam felt cold steel slam into the side of his head and then everything went dark.

_(Two hours later)_

A crummy basement faded into view as Sam awoke from his forced slumber with a pounding headache. Sam looked around seeing a large television screen, a punching bag, a large table and some sort of metal track that ran up the wall. He tried to move his arms only to find that they were tied securely to the back of a wooden chair. Someone wanted him to stay for a while.

Out of nowhere, Sam heard a loud rumble as a metal platform moved down the track that extended up the wall. The platform lowered, carrying a old pinball machine and his old friend, Barret Wallace.

"Alright Sammy," Barret said in a serious voice. "Lets talk."

"Why do we need to talk," Sam said weakly. "You got a big screen TV over there. Just flip it to..."

_SMACK_

Sam thought his head was going to rip off. Barret had slammed his huge left fist into his skull.

"Why'd you do it," Barret asked angrily. "Why'd you kill my old man?"

"You...you waited all these years just to ask me that?" Sam replied weakly.

_SMACK_

A second colossal blow crashed into Sam's head. He didn't know if he could survive a third.

"I thought you was long dead," Barret shouted back at him. "If I'd thought otherwise I'da found you."

Sam rolled his eye at Barret's comment. He didn't care if he angered him at this point.

"WHY!" Barret shouted. "I WANT TO KNOW WHY!"

"I didn't," Sam said, his voice to low to be heard.

"What did you say," Barret snapped.

"I didn't do it," Sam replied.

_SMACK_

After Barret's third punch, Sam felt consciousness slipping away from him.

_bam bam thud _

He was jarred back to coherence as he heard a firefight going on upstairs.

"BARRET, GET UP HERE!" a female voice yelled.

"Stay with me Sammy boy," Barret said as he moved over by the pinball machine. "I'm not finished with you yet."

Following that comment, Barret flipped a lever on the platform and was raised out of sight by an unseen mechanism.

_(Present)_

_We was good ol' friends once, but that was a long time ago. Who could have imagined that things would turn out like this?_

_Too bad things went down the way they did back in the day. Me and Barret might still be friends._

_But we aint. _


	3. We Aint Innocent

_So there I was, tied to a goddamn chair in a crummy basement in the Sector 7 Slums._

_Barret had gone up to help out his team with some sort of fight after he'd asked me about...back then._

_I hadn't thought about my life before Corel Prison in years. But, when Barret brought it up, it all seemed to come rushing back. Sit'n in that shitty basement, I remembered the way things went down back in the day..._

**Chapter 3: We Aint Innocent**

_(Corel, twenty years ago)_

Samuel Rutherford Lennox was fourteen years old. His mother had died when he was very young, so he lived with his father, Tyler Lennox, in the coal mining town of Corel.

Most of the people in the town didn't trust Sam. He was a troublemaker. Always stealing, lying, cheating and anything else he could do to cause a fuss. People figured it was because his father didn't pay much attention to him, he just wanted to be noticed.

Sam's father, who everyone called Tex, was a skilled miner and gunsmith. Everyone in Corel respected Tex's talents and figured that Sam could never live up. Tex seemed to feel the same way, never really taking much of an interest in his son. In fact, nobody really took much of an interest in Sam, being the problem child that he was.

Sam only had two friends, Barret and Dyne. Barret was only one year older than him, but he was better at everything. His father, Charles, was very proud of him. Sam had always been jealous of the relationship Barret had with his dad, often attempting to prove he was better than Barret in any competition. Sam had wished he might get Tex to show some approval toward him, but he never seemed to be good enough.

That's the way things were for Sam, but he didn't let it bother him. Corel wasn't a bad place to live back in those days and he was happy there. Until one morning, when the sun peeked beautifully over the horizon, and Sam stood in his house having a conversation he will never forget...

"You mean it dad," Sam said eagerly. "We're actually gonna go to the mines together today."

"Sure," Tex said. "But you broke your pick axe screwin around like ya' always do. You'll have to go borrow one. Ya' know what, why don't you run down to Charlie's house, he's got one I'm sure he'll let you use."

"Great," Sam replied, a wide smile on his face. "I'll be back real quick."

Sam ran from his house as fast as he could. He hoped that Charles would be home so that he wouldn't have to snatch the pick from his house without permission. Quickly reaching Barret's house, Sam knocked on the wooden door. Barret was probably out with Dyne as usual and would likely not be in. Charles would probably be home though, since the workers hadn't left for the mines yet.

When nobody answered, Sam knocked again. Still no answer came. Anxious to get back to his father, he opened the door and stepped inside, hoping to find a pick near the door. Sure enough, leaning up against the wall was a small miner's pick. Sam quickly grabbed it and stepped further into the house. As he walked, he noticed that a dark liquid was dripping from the metal point of the tool.

"Mr. Wallace," Sam called, walking slowly through the house. "Are you in here?"

Before he even finished his sentence, he saw someone lying on the floor next to the couch. As he moved closer, he saw that it was Charles Wallace. His torso and neck had several round puncture wounds and his body lay frighteningly motionless. He was dead.

Sam stood frozen in horror as he stared at Barret's dad, lying silently on the wooden floor in a pool of his own blood.

"What the hell," yelled Jacob Bradley from behind him. He was a good friend of Charles and would most likely not be happy to find him murdered.

Sam was dragged out of the house by Jacob, the commotion causing a small crowd to gather. He struggled violently but Will Hamilton, a local merchant, quickly helped Jacob restrain him. It didn't take long before the townspeople were convinced that Sam had murdered Charles in cold blood.

"Charlie's dead," Jacob yelled to the onlookers. "I found Sam in the house holding this."

Jacob held up a bloody pick axe, no doubt in his mind that it was the murder weapon.

"Nothin' but a piece of trash that one," an upset woman said. "It was just a matter of time before he did somethin' like this."

Jacob leaned in close to Sam and said angrily, "We ought to jus' kill you right now."

Barret and Dyne, who had been talking nearby, saw that people were gathering around Sam and quickly ran over to him.

"What's go'n on here?" Barret asked.

"Barret," Will said, hesitating before he spoke again. "...it's...it's your father...he's..."

"What happened to Dad," Barret asked, worry in his voice. "Is he ok?"

"He's dead Barret..." Jacob said softly.

"No," Barret said, a look of horror on his face. "Sam did you...YOU...I'LL KILL YOU YOU BASTARD!"

As Barret rushed toward him, Sam shouted, "NO, I didn't do it!"

_SMACK SMACK SMACK_

"Barret please," Sam cried as Barret slammed him in the face with ferocious punches. "It wasn't me!"

"YOU PIECE OF SHIT," Barret yelled back at him with tears in his eyes. "WHY! WHY DID YOU KILL HIM!"

Sam was pulled away from his crazed friend by the two men who restrained him. They dragged him out of the crowd and over to where Tex stood.

"Dad," Sam said, relieved by the sight of his father. "Dad, tell 'em I didn't do it. Tell 'em I was just go'n to borrow a pick."

Tex simply shook his head, as if disgusted by his son, and said, "Take him away."

"Dad please!" Sam cried, tears streaming from his face as the men dragged him away from his father.

"I hope you like sand kid," Jacob said to him, obvious hatred in his tone. "...cause that's all you gonna see where you're go'n."

"Please dad," Sam desperately yelled back to his father. "Help me. I didn't do it. I swear. Don't let 'em take me away dad."

Tex just turned his back and walked away, not saying a word. Sam watched his father disappear from his sight. He didn't know why his dad had abandoned him, but he knew that he was in serious trouble and that he was all alone.

_(Midgar, Three weeks before the destruction of Reactor No. 1)_

Sam was enraged by the flood of memories that Barret had triggered. He wanted to get out of there and finish the mission. He knew he wouldn't be getting paid, but some missions aren't about the money.

Only his arms had been tied, so Sam leaned forward and stood up, lifting the chair that was attached to his arms. Then, he jumped backward keeping the chair between himself and the ground. The cheap wooden chair was crushed by his weight, freeing his tied arms.

Back on his feet again, Sam patted himself down finding that he was completely unarmed. They had even taken his bullets, including the Mako rounds he had gotten from the ShinRa. He looked around the room again, hoping to see some of his weapons. Nothing.

_I guess they know who they are deal'n with after all,_ Sam thought.

As he surveyed his surroundings, he realized his bullet wounds were no longer bleeding. He had apparently been treated by AVALANCHE. They must not have wanted him to bleed to death before Barret had a chance to 'catch up'.

The noises of fighting had stopped but he continued to hear raised voices. Whatever was going on up there, Sam hoped that Barret would live long enough so that he could properly thank him for the hospitality.

"Check that thing out," a voice called from upstairs. "It looks like it leads to the basement."

AVALANCHE had apparently lost the fight. In seconds, a soldier would be coming down on the lift to secure the hideout. Sam knew that only one of them would be leaving the basement alive. Sam walked over to the shattered chair and picked up one of its legs, which had been split into a sharp point at one end. Again he heard a loud rumbling as the large platform descended down the metal track.

The lift was nearly halfway down when Sam reached up and grabbed the soldier by the leg. He then yanked him off of the platform and onto the hard floor beneath. The surprised soldier landed hard on his back, knocking the air from his lungs. Before the soldier could recover from the fall, Sam shoved the chair leg into his throat, with one quick stabbing motion.

"Hey James," a soldier called from upstairs. "Is everything alright down there?"

The concerned soldier walked over to the edge of the opening that his friend had descended into. He leaned over to look down into the basement and found himself staring into the barrel of an assault rifle.

_BAM_

With one precise shot, Sam had splattered the soldiers brains on the roof of the bar. The curious soldier's lifeless body crumpled and fell through the hole into the basement.

_THUD_

Two dead ShinRa soldiers lay on the floor at Sam's feet. Anyone who stood between him and Barret would soon join them. Armed with the first soldier's rifle, Sam stepped onto the lift platform and flipped the lever. He was then raised by the mechanism into an obviously low income restaurant, the only kind that existed in the slums of Midgar.

_Jackpot_, Sam thought as he spotted his belt and hat laying on one of the tables. He quickly walked over to his equipment, finding that his revolver was missing from its holster, but his ammo and grenades were still in their place on his belt. To his relief, one of his knifes was also laying on the table.

Sam strapped his belt around his waist, slid the knife into its place on his left leg and placed his trusty black hat on top of his head. Once he had put all his equipment into its proper location, he readied the dead soldier's assault rifle and walked slowly to the bar's exit. He carefully peered out the saloon style doorway, completely unnoticed by his enemies.

Four ShinRa soldiers were gathered outside with their guns trained on the small band of AVALANCHE members. Barret was standing there like the fool that he was with his arms raised in surrender. His cowardice would not save him, however, because Sam didn't plan on taking prisoners. He quickly raised the assault rifle and sighted Barret with his good eye.

As Sam aimed his weapon at Barret through the bar doorway, he saw Barret lower his gun arm and discharge a large metal box from the bottom. It was a high capacity ammo clip that fit smoothly into his metal forearm, where it could feed the machine gun high caliber shells at a phenomenal speed, a brilliant design.

_Wait a second_, Sam thought, confused by his old friend's willingness to accept defeat. _If he still got bullets, why is he surrendering? He don't seem like the type to..._

Sam was shocked to see that the reason they were surrendering was a young girl who was being held captive by one of the ShinRa soldiers. He restrained her with one arm and held a large knife against her throat with the other.

"Papa!" the young girl cried.

"It'll be ok," Barret said to her. "Don't worry Marlene, everything's gonna be ok."

Sam was struck by the sudden realization of what he was seeing. _Barret is a...father_, Sam thought. _He's giving up because he's a father._

He lowered the ShinRa rifle, nearly letting it drop from his hands. Barret was a strong, talented fighter with a gun arm to back him up. With his AVALANCHE team at his side, he wielded some incredible influence and power. But, he was willing to give it all up to save his daughter. Barret was actually a good father.

_Boo fuckin hoo_, Sam thought, raising his rifle again. _Don't shed as many tears when ya lose an eye in Corel Prison._

Sam sighted Barret with the assault rifle and started to squeeze the trigger. He was stopped by the sound of someone softly weeping. The young girl who was held captive had started to cry. Sam knew how to block out most of his meaningless emotions, but anger was one that he never quite had a handle on.

As he heard the helpless child crying, Sam felt a burning rage fill his heart that quickly washed away the anger he felt towards Barret. He recognized the emotions that the read on the young girl's face. He didn't know why, but it pissed him off, whether or not she was kin to his enemies.

_BAM_

The unsuspecting soldier's head jerked violently to the right as a large rifle shell pierced his left temple. The dead kidnapper crumpled to the ground, the knife falling away from the young girl's neck.

As quickly as she was freed, the girl ran frantically toward her father, sprinting as fast as her small legs could carry her. One of the soldiers reached out for the girl as she ran past, but was knocked from his feet by a kick from the brunette that Sam had encountered earlier. Knowing that she would take care of him, Sam turned his attention to the two armed soldiers.

_BAM_

With a perfect head shot, Sam took out the closest soldier. But before he could turn his attention, the last armed soldier opened fire on the doorway.

_BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM CLICK_

The stupid soldier had burnt an entire clip firing blindly at the bar's doorway. He frantically attempted to reload as Sam burst through the door and leapt over the wooden railing of the bar's porch. Not feeling it was necessary to waste ammo on him, Sam slammed the stock of his rifle into the soldier's face sending him toppling to the ground with a cracked skull. He wouldn't be waking up.

Sam then turned his attention to AVALANCHE. The last soldier standing was holding his nightstick, preparing to swing it at the long haired woman who had apparently disarmed him. He lunged forward, swinging his weapon with all his strength. In response, the woman gracefully sidestepped his attack, grabbed his wrist, and slammed her other hand into the back of his elbow.

_CRACK_

The attacking soldier's elbow bent inward, causing him to cry out in pain and drop helplessly to his knees.

"Ouch," Sam said to himself, again impressed by the woman's abilities.

She stood in front of the whimpering man, apparently feeling mercy for him when...

_BAM_

...his blood was splattered on her face, courtesy of Sam.

Keeping his gun raised, Sam scanned the members of AVALANCHE, preparing himself to fight them if the need, or the desire, arose. The woman stood a few meters away, wiping the soldiers blood from her face. Two men and one woman, with red bandanas on their heads, stood frozen with their gazes fixed on Sam. And Barret stood holding his terrified daughter, his arms tightly wrapped around her. They were no threat.

"My revolver," Sam said, lowering the rifle.

Barret turned to the brown haired man who stood behind him and said, "Biggs."

"Aw man," Biggs mumbled in disappointment as he removed a black revolver from his belt.

"Tifa," Barret said, addressing the beautiful fighter. "Take Marlene inside."

Barret lowered his daughter to the ground and kept his eyes on her until she was completely inside the bar. He then turned to Biggs and took the old revolver from his hands. With a serious look on his face, Barret silently walked over to Sam and held out the antique weapon.

Sam met Barret's intense gaze, and after what seemed like an eternity, he stepped closer and claimed his trusty revolver.

"You're lucky," Sam said, breaking the long silence. "None of 'em escaped, or survived for that matter, so your hideout's still a secret."

"Killed 'em all, did ya?" Barret asked. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Cause you'da done the same thing, Mr. Family Man." Sam replied, twirling his revolver into the holster on his belt.

"How do we know you aint gonna sell us out to the ShinRa?" Barret asked. "See'n as how you came here to cash in my head."

In response to that question, Sam simply walked past Barret toward the Sector 7 train station, not saying a word. After Sam had walked a ways down the dirt path, Barret turned to face him.

"Sam," Barret said, his tone had softened somewhat. "Back then...were you really...innocent?"

Sam stopped walking but didn't turn, he just silently stood in the path. After a moment, he started to walk again.

"Yeah," Sam answered before he was out of Barret's earshot. "But, I aint no more."

"No," Barret said to himself as Sam disappeared from sight. "We aint innocent no more."

_(Present)_

_Sure I could'a fought AVALANCHE, maybe even killed 'em, but...I didn't._

_Instead, I crashed in Midgar for a while, healin up and gettin my strength back. I knew that I couldn't let the ShinRa Corporation double cross me and get away with it._

_If I was smart I would'a just let ShinRa get away with it, the way they get away with all the other terrible things they do. If I was smart I would'a just went on with my life and never look'd back. If I was smart I wouldn't have gone and got my self in this goddamn wooden tomb._

_But I aint smart._


	4. For My Own Reasons

_About two weeks had passed since I walked away from Barret and his flunkies, and I had gotten nowhere._

_I mean, where do ya start fighting the ShinRa? I sure as hell didn't know. So I was just hang'n in one of the many hole-in-the-wall bars that filled the slums of Midgar. I told myself I was look'n for info, but I was just look'n for trouble._

_Barret had dragged me kick'n and scream'n down memory lane and I hadn't quite hobbled my way back to sanity street just yet. I was look'n for blood. _

_I'd hoped some tough guy would be shoot'n his mouth off, or some badass would be hassle'n someone. A good fight would usually clear my head, whether it was with guns or fists._

_Well, as I usually do, I found trouble, or rather it found me..._

**Chapter 4: For My Own Reasons**

_(Midgar, One week before the destruction of Reactor No. 1)_

Barret scanned 'The Rusty Hammer', his eyes narrowing as he peered through the thick fog of cigarette smoke that filled the small bar. A moldy jukebox assaulted his ears with stale music as he shoved his way through the questionable crowd.

_There he is_, Barret thought, spotting a man in ragged clothing relaxing in a booth in the corner.

The man's face carried the scars of past battles and his left eye socket held something that was definitely not a natural eye. He lounged absently in his bench seat, smoking a cigarette as if he hadn't another care in the world. As far as Barret could tell, the man hadn't spotted him yet, which made his approach easier. He wasn't looking to cause a fuss.

_He's not gonna be happy to see me_, Barret assured himself as he stepped closer to his old friend. _He's lucky I aint here to kill him. I could… _

"Hello Barret," Sam said, interrupting Barret's thought. "It's a small goddamn world, huh?"

With that comment, Sam lifted his coat, revealing the revolver in his other hand. The hammer on the weapon was pulled back and the barrel was lined perfectly with Barret's head. Sam had apparently known he was there the whole time.

Barret was somewhat impressed by Sam, having assumed he was just a reckless idiot. In response to Sam's greeting, Barret raised his gun arm and tapped it with his index finger, as if to remind Sam that he was armed as well.

Sam simply nodded, slowly releasing the hammer on his revolver sliding it into his holster. Seemingly calm, Sam raised his arm and motioned to the seat across from him. Barret, wary of his old friend, walked over and sat down in the dirty booth, his large body barely fitting between the seat and the table.

"You look'n to finish what ya started in Sector 7?" Sam asked, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

"Funny," Barret replied. "I was just about to ask ya the same thing."

"Funny?" Sam shot back at him in a serious voice. "I wasn't joking."

"You might wanna check your tone tough guy," Barret growled, slamming his gun arm down on the table. "Jus' cause I aint kill'n you right now, don't mean we are friends. And it don't mean I believe ya' didn't kill my old man."

"If that's where this little discussion is head'n," Sam snapped, his tone hadn't changed. "Maybe we should take it outside."

"Nothin I'd like more," Barret coldly replied. "But that aint why I came here."

Sam seemed to be losing his patience, "Well, why did ya…"

"Dammit Sam," Barret interrupted. "I came here to ask you what happened back in Corel."

Sam was immediately affected by Barret's mention of the hometown. His one-eyed gaze seemed to cut into Barret like a razor-blade, he could feel his old friend's anger. They were silent for a long moment and, just as Barret was sure they were going to draw weapons, Sam calmly turned his head and took a long drag from his cigarette.

"Your dad was killed," Sam said, his tone was ice cold. "My condolences."

"You asshole," Barret snapped. "I aint never doubted that you killed my old man..."

Barret paused for a moment, Sam only stared back at him.

"...'til a couple weeks ago, when we last talked." Barret said. "I s'pose I've got no reason to trust your word. All I'm say'n is that now I got doubt and I don't want it. I want to know, do I listen to your story, or do I drag your dead body outta here?"

Seemingly unthreatened, Sam crushed his cigarette between his rough fingers and dropped the crumpled butt on the table. He then reached up, removed his hat and laid it on the table in front of him. The dim lighting, which had been blocked by the brim of Sam's hat, illuminated his face, reminding Barret of the man he had become. The scars on his face cast small shadows on his features and his red eye seemed to glow as light reflected from its smooth surface.

"My father..." Sam said, pausing at the mention of Tex. "...My father sent me to your house to get a pick that morning. When I got there, Charlie was already dead. Good 'ol Jake came in and saw me hold'n a bloody pick axe. I believe you know the rest."

Barret was unaffected by Sam's words, unsure whether or not he should believe them. His story seemed possible, but it was far from likely. The only reason Barret didn't shoot him on the spot was because he knew that ShinRa would have won in Sector 7 if Sam hadn't escaped and helped.

"Seems to me that the Sam Lennox I knew would'a been able to make up a better story than that," Barret stated, staring his old friend in the face.

"Maybe..." Sam replied, sliding out of the seat and standing up as he spoke. "He might have been able to. But he died that day too. I'm Hades now."

With that comment, picked up his hat, turned around, and began walking out of the small bar. Barret, not knowing how to respond, stood up and followed suit, stepping out of the smoke-filled room into the humid slum air. Sam stood a couple meters away in the dirt path staring absently at a small town in the Sector 3 slums. Barret walked over to stand beside him. They both watched the residents living their lives as they stood in complete silence. Standing next to the hired killer, Barret thought about his old friend Sam.

_He's right_, Barret realized, looking out the corner of his eye at the ex-prisoner. _He aint the same person he was back then. Not even close._

After a short time, Sam cocked his head slightly toward Barret and spoke.

"Where's Dyne?" he asked. "He aint in your little gang. I figured you two was a duo for life, wha'd he join the ShinRa or somethin."

Sam chuckled lightly at his own comment, continuing to look over the poor town.

"...He's gone," Barret said, his voice deep with regret. "He was shot down in Corel...by the ShinRa. But, I think he may still be..."

"Too bad," Sam interrupted, unaffected by the revelation. "He probably would'a been talkin you outta this lifestyle, ya know. He was always the level-headed one."

"Yeah," Barret replied. "Dyne wasn't as crazy as us. I don't think he could handle some of the wrongs we've done. But, I'm try'n to pay it back every day with Marlene. Maybe, jus' maybe, if I can raise her right, I'll be able to forgive myself for what I done."

Sam only nodded in response, as if he understood what Barret meant.

"Yo Sam," Barret said suddenly, Sam turned to face him as he spoke. "Why'd you help us back there?"

"Didn't," Sam said seriously, his tone emotionless. "I did what I do. I killed some folks for my own reasons."

"You know what I meant," Barret shot back at him. "Why'd you help Marlene?"

"Price wasn't on her head," Sam stated, his voice still cold. "I jus' kill'd the group that I hated the most. Lucky for you, it was the ShinRa."

"How do you sleep at night?" Barret barked, becoming quickly angry at Sam.

"Same way yo' dad does," Sam said, squaring his shoulders with Barret's. "Very peacefully."

Barret, not being able to stand another word from the man, threw his huge left fist at his face. Apparently expecting such a response, Sam ducked under the colossal swing and then nailed Barret in the chin with a strong uppercut. Swiftly following up, Sam threw all his weight into a right hook that plowed into Barret's cheek. Barret stumbled backwards a few steps as Sam casually removed his hat and tossed it aside.

"I been want'n to do that for twenty years," Sam hissed, raising his hands into fighting position.

"Bring it, you one-eyed bastard," Barret replied angrily as he turned his head to the side and spat some blood.

Barret was a big guy, but Sam wasn't small. He stood about six feet, two hundred and fifty pounds of pure muscle, and a he was a professional killer.

_This aint gonna be easy_, Barret admitted.

As Barret finished his thought, his old friend lunged toward him, throwing punches with lightening speed. He didn't even have a chance to put up a defense before Sam was slamming his fists into his face. After three powerful punches violently jarred his skull, he raised his huge gun-arm in front of his face and threw his elbow into Sam's head.

_SMACK_

Sam staggered backwards, trying to maintain his balance. He had been hit hard. After a moment, he shook it off and met Barret's intense gaze.

Barret was just about to engage him again when he noticed the stream of red that slid down Sam's left cheek. His red eye was shedding tears of blood. Apparently Barret had hit him harder than he thought.

"You really are a freak," Barret gloated.

Sam reached up and wiped his hand over his rough cheek. He then looked down at the dark liquid on his hand. When he raised his head, his face was blazing with anger as blood rippled down his face and dripped to the dirt.

_Oh damn_, Barret thought, somewhat regretful of his comment. _Now I'm gonna have to kill him_.

Sam was raising his hands to attack when...

_BANG_

...blood spewed from his chest. Barret swung his head around, spotting the shooter who stood a few meters behind him. He turned back to Sam, noticing that thick curls of blood now poured from Sam's chest, but he was still standing. The bullet must have missed his heart only by inches.

"DON'T MOVE!" a male voice screamed.

_Hit men_, Barret thought, raising his hands slowly in response. _No reason I should resist_. _The price aint on my head_.

Barret heard the footsteps of several men closing in on their position. Before the killers had reached him, their target crumpled to the ground. Barret just observed, not knowing how well armed they were or even how many of them lurked behind him.

A rugged man dressed in dirty brown clothing stepped into Barret's view, holding a silver semi-automatic pistol which he held ready to fire at any sign of motion from either of the two men. He carefully crept toward Sam's motionless body, keeping his eyes trained warily on Barret. As he approached his mark, he aimed his gun at the back of Sam's head.

Barret heard another man approach from behind him as he waited to hear the gunshot that would end Sam's miserable life. Barret regretted that his old friend was about to meet such a merciful end, he deserved much worse. Suddenly Sam lunged from the dirt, shoving his long combat knife through the bottom of the assassin's jaw and into his brain before he had a chance to squeeze the trigger.

A split second later, Barret had pivoted to his right and slammed his heavy gun-arm into the face of the man who stood behind him. The solid steel machine gun flattened the assassin's face as if it were made of dough.

Spinning to face Sam, Barret saw him draw and aim his revolver with insane speed. Barret stared down the barrel of the black gun when...

_BANG_

...the bullet zipped past his head, missing his left ear by centimeters. Barret turned to see a third hit man thud to the ground, killed instantly by the bullet that entered his forehead.

When Barret looked back at Sam, he looked like a walking corpse. Dried blood covered the left side of his face, branching out in erratic patterns from his monstrous left eye. The white shirt that covered his chest was painted red by a river of blood that still pumped from the hole in his chest.

Sam, on the verge of collapsing, fumbled his shaky hand into his pocket and removed a small green orb. As he grasped it as tightly as he could, a sparkling emerald light emerged, illuminating the air around him. The flow of blood was staunched, but the wound was not entirely mended. It would take time and rest to fully repair the damage he had suffered. Barret recognized his chance to end it.

_He's killed a lot_, Barret assured himself. _And he'll kill more, maybe innocents next time. I should just..._

Sam still held his revolver but didn't seem to have to strength to lift it. Slipping the materia back into his coat pocket, he turned and began to stagger down the path, his back turned to Barret.

_Now's my chance_, Barret thought. _If not for the world's sake, then for his. To spare him the life that he is leading._

He couldn't do it. He couldn't bring himself to shoot an old friend in the back, no matter what he had become.

"Hey Sam," he yelled to the half dead man.

Sam cocked his head to the right and weakly replied, "...Yeah?"

"We been hurt'n for some help lately," Barret admitted, struggling with his attempt at sincerity. "And we're plan'n a big hit on the ShinRa. Really gonna set 'em back this time."

"Are you ask'n for my help," Sam mumbled.

"I'm offer'n you a job," Barret said. "You are good at what you do. I'm jus' ask'n you to do what you do for a good cause. Plus, you said somethin' bout hate'n the ShinRa."

"So what 'scuse do you put with kill'n these days," Sam asked. "It's ta' save the planet?"

"ShinRa is kill'n the planet," Barret barked. "But it aint jus' what they do'n...it's what they did."

At that comment, Sam turned around, again displaying his ghastly appearance. He had been screwed over by the ShinRa and was likely warming up to the idea of joining the cause. After a moment, Barret spoke again.

"They deserve the worst," Barret stated angrily. "They deserve the wrath of guys like us."

"I hope you got money," Sam said, allowing a grin to creep onto his face. "Cause I don't work cheap."

_(Present)_

_So I joined up with AVALANCHE. I didn't do it for Barret, or for the shitty planet. I did it cause I hate the ShinRa. They had put that hit on my head._

_Not only had those bastards double-crossed me, they weren't going to let me just walk away. Not by a long shot. What else could you expect when you're on the ShinRa corps bad side?_

_Well I sure as hell wasn't gonna go down without at least injuring them first. Barret had offer'd me a chance. A chance to hurt the ShinRa or die try'n._

_And I took it._


End file.
